Whose hand do you hold and grow old with?
I don't know for whom your indifferent eyebrows are filled with tenderness. I don't know for whom you are tossing and turning in the deep night. I don't know for whom you pulled up your long hair and put on the wedding dress. The hair is tied with the old lady, and the white head is inseparable.
There are so many things I don't know about you.
But there is only one thing, my dear, that is something you never take to heart and do not want to take it to heart, but I regard it as a treasure and keep it properly. It is the you that belongs to me that you don't know in time.